


all's well that ends well to end up with you

by hi_raeth



Series: reblog (mini fics + prompt fills) [19]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, FOR FIVE WHOLE YEARS, Friends to Lovers, Safe to Read if You're Triggered by Pregnancy, ft. these two being dumb oblivious pining idiots, look they're soft and fluffy and dumb what more can i say, originally posted on twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22784008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hi_raeth/pseuds/hi_raeth
Summary: After a night out, best friends Rey and Ben wake up with no recollection of how they’d both ended up in Ben’s bed with barely any clothes on. Luckily, their past selves have left them a trail of clues in the form of Instagram stories and drunken tweets.Prompt fill for:"Best friends (who are also secretly in love with each other) Rey and Ben wake up in bed together after a drunken night out. They can't remember if they've had sex or not and spend the morning trying to remember if they have (they haven't). In the process, they discover that they've been in love with each other forever.”
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: reblog (mini fics + prompt fills) [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1048628
Comments: 77
Kudos: 508





	all's well that ends well to end up with you

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! This was originally posted to Twitter, but it ended up being so wordy that I decided it was worth taking the plunge and finally figuring out how to post images here on AO3 to share it with y'all. I still have no idea what I'm doing, so please bear with me if there are any technical difficulties. 
> 
> Title taken from Taylor Swift's _Lover_ , because that's how fluffy this fic is.

> **_Friday, 6PM:_ **

**__ **

.

> _**Saturday, 8AM:** _

The acrid taste of acid is what first pulls Rey back into the waking world.

It’s an unpleasant awakening, quickly followed by a headache so bad tears spring to her eyes and nausea so overpowering it yanks her out of bed.

Moving with single-minded urgency, she barely even hears the pained moan that rings out behind her as she tumbles out of bed in a mess of tangled sheets. Muscle memory guides her through the darkness and into the bathroom, and she has just enough time to slam the door behind her before her knees and her stomach give out, with nothing but the cool surface of clean porcelain pressed against overheated skin to provide comfort.

Thank god Ben insists on keeping the most unnaturally clean bathroom she’s ever seen.

With one hand braced against the toilet and the other holding her hair back, Rey has none to spare for her pounding head and the jumble of thoughts that only make things worse, snippets of memories that refuse to put themselves in order and explain why she’d just woken up in her best friend’s bed.

But the mystery of last night and this morning will just have to wait until her stomach is empty and her world stops spinning. A short eternity or perhaps a miserable lifetime passes before she can finally drag herself up and hunch over the sink… only for another wave of dizziness to nearly knock her off her feet as soon as she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

Clad in an awfully familiar robe featuring the most garish floral print known to mankind, it is at that moment that Rey realizes three very important, very terrifying things:

  1. She is wearing _nothing_ under said robe, which was a gag gift from her to Ben three Christmases ago.
  2. She’d just woken up in bed _with someone,_ and that someone can only be Ben.
  3. She has absolutely no idea how she’d ended up naked. In bed. With her best friend.



As the sounds of said best friend reluctantly waking up and immediately bemoaning his hungover state slowly grow louder and closer, Rey finds herself rooted to the spot and rendered paralyzed by a potent wave of shock and horror and… somewhere, somehow, hidden deep beneath the churning waves of turmoil in her stomach, the slightest flutter of hope.

“What,” she croaks out, staring at her wide-eyed, pale-faced counterpart in the mirror as Ben begins to knock on the door, “the _fuck_ happened last night?”

.

> _**Friday, 9PM:** _

__

_**** _

.

> _**Saturday, 8:30AM:** _

Her reflection offers no answer, staying stock-still as Ben’s knocks on the door begin to increase in force and frequency.

“Rey? You okay in there? Just like… cough or something if you’re alive.”

He sounds just about as miserable and exhausted as she feels, and a telling _thump_ against the door punctuates his instructions. Rey can picture him slumped against the door, hands braced on either side of the frame in distrust of the flimsy thing’s ability to hold his massive frame.

What kind of idiot takes one look at a 6’2”, 190-something pound _giant_ and thinks, _oh yes, trying to out-drink this man is definitely a reasonable and doable goal?_

Rey groans out loud at her idiocy, and the noise apparently serves as a sufficient sign of life for Ben to let out a sigh of relief from his end of the door.

“I hate myself,” she calls out anyway, staggering over to curl one hand around the doorknob. The metal is nice and cool in her clammy palm, prompting some desperate corner of her mind to wonder just how nice it would feel against her burning forehead. Rey closes her eyes and groans again. “I hate _everything_.”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” Ben mumbles, barely audible even with less than ten inches of space between them. Seconds pass – or maybe more, it’s quite possible that she might’ve blacked out for a minute there – before he speaks again. “Hey, let me in? I need to like… drown myself in cold water, or something.”

“That sounds nice,” Rey sighs as she begins to turn the doorknob, moving slowly enough for Ben to notice and stand up straight before he tumbles into bathroom and onto the floor.

Though now that Rey thinks about it, that might not be such a bad idea. The tiles feel nice and cold under her feet, and that’s enough for her to plop down to the ground as Ben slowly shuffles in.

She’s greeted first by the sight of his bare feet, and then his bare legs, and then his bare chest, with nothing but a criminally tight pair of boxer briefs to break up all those miles and miles of _skin._

Her throat, already parched and achy to begin with, feels about as dry as the Sahara as she tries to reboot her mind and focus on Ben’s face and nothing but his face. That simple task proves to be an unexpected challenge, enough for Rey to set aside her questions about the previous night and instead ask–

“Do you have like… like a robe or something you could put on?”

Ben blinks. “I, um…” His eyes drop somewhere below her face, and then squeeze shut, the rest of his face scrunching up into a pained expression. It’s probably his turn to empty out his stomach, but the mere thought of getting out of the way to give him access to the toilet makes Rey’s bones cry out in protest.

But seconds pass, and Ben doesn’t move. “I would,” he finally says, eyes still tightly shut, “but it looks like you beat me to it.”

Oh.

Right.

Abruptly reminded of her current state of dress, red-hot mortification bubbles in Rey’s veins as she slowly looks down to find the robe barely cinched together at her waist, offering Ben a clear view of… _everything_ from his position six feet above her.

Embarrassment slices through the fog of her hangover with startling efficiency, allowing her to jump up to her feet and adjust the robe even as her head screams at her for her sudden movement. “Shit, sorry, I don’t even know why I’m wearing this.”

Ben chances a peek, and sighs in relief when he finds her decent. “So I’m guessing that means you have no idea how we ended up back here either?” he asks, leaning heavily against the countertop while he runs a hand through his snarled locks, tugging at them in frustration only to wince at the pain.

“I don’t even remember us leaving the club,” Rey admits as she watches him struggle with his rat’s nest. After the fourth sharp hiss, she steps forward to bat his hand away and rises up on her tip-toes to help him.

“See, I _knew_ that place was bad news,” Ben mutters darkly, bending his knees slightly to meet her halfway and holding still as she carefully cards her hands through his hair.

Rey rolls her eyes at him despite the sharp jolt of pain the action invites, and allows a smile to tug at her lips as what little she _does_ remember of the night replays in her head. “And yet, I seem to recall someone having the time of his life on the dance floor.”

She gives his hair one last pat and steps back down onto her heels as Ben straightens up.

His lips curve into a soft little smile, the kind that always, _always_ ends with her heart crying out for something it will never have.

“I always have the time of my life when I’m with you, sweetheart.”

.

> _**Saturday, 12AM:** _

_**** _

.

> _**Saturday, 9AM:**_

God, the _things_ this man says.

It should be illegal, impossible even, for him to do this to her heart, to break it and mend it in the same breath. Because as much as Rey wants, longs, _hurts_ for all the things she’ll never get to have with him, what they have right now is already more than she could ever have hoped for, better than she could ever have dreamed of.

Here is a person who’s always there for her when she needs him, who calls her _sweetheart_ like he means it in the most sincere way, who says things that make her smile like the lovesick fool that she is–

And he’s smiling too, as he says it, as she hears it, but slowly… slowly his smile fades while hers lingers, slowly the soft look on his face turns into something awkward and uncomfortable and _pained._

His eyes drop to the ground, and she can barely hear him when he mumbles, “Rey, I hate to ask but…”

Ben waves at the space between them, at their mutual lack of clothing, and there’s no mistaking what he’s talking about.

Or, more accurately, _not_ talking about.

“Last night… do you think… I mean… did we…?” He might not be able to put it into words, but the look on his face tells her exactly what he’s asking and, more importantly, exactly how he feels about the possibility.

Because Ben… Ben looks _nauseated,_ there’s no other word for it, by the mere idea of them having sex. And a part of her would love to chalk it up to his hangover, but a bigger part of Rey, the cautious, once-bitten-twice-shy part that’s always warned her against giving him her heart, won’t let her bury her head in the sand.

Not this time, not when Ben looks absolutely defeated by her silence and what it might imply.

“I, um…” Her first instinct, even now, even as everything hurts from this unexpected yet unsurprising rejection, is to tell him what he wants to hear, to put him at ease and let him off the hook.

But the fact is… she can’t. Not honestly, at least, not without her memories of last night, and those seem to be gone for good–

Unless somewhere, somehow, the events of last night had been documented – as most of their Friday nights tend to be. “Phone!” Rey gasps, and figures her lightbulb moment is as good an excuse as any to turn her back on Ben and flee from the bathroom before her heartache shows.

It’s _stupid_ , the fact that she’s actually hurt by this. Ben not wanting her isn’t exactly news to Rey; far from it, really, when she’s known that he could never see her that way ever since Poe’s Halloween party the year they first met.

She’d skipped the entire party to sit with him in the backyard, had accepted his jacket and scooted closer for warmth, even left the party early so that he could walk her home, all the way to her door… only for Ben to give her an awkward pat on her shoulder and a _mumbled good night_ before he disappeared into the foggy night, leaving her with nothing but his jacket and the ghost of a kiss that had never happened.

A kiss that will never happen, Rey reminds herself as she scoops her phone up from Ben’s left nightstand and sits down on the bed… unless it happened last night and she has no memory of it whatsoever. That would be just her luck, really, to have her first and only kiss with Ben Solo while she’s blackout drunk so that she’ll be forced to go to her grave not ever knowing how it feels to have his lips on hers.

Her little pity party is rudely interrupted by Ben’s presence, the mattress dipping low as he comes to sit next to her and peer at her phone over her shoulder. Rey taps on her gallery, and the both of them promptly groan at the dozens of poorly-lit and blurry photos and videos that pop up.

“Is that…” Rey squints at one picture in particular, and taps on it to reveal a shirtless Ben dancing in the club with wild abandon, his hair a riotous halo of black curls swinging every which way.

She can’t help but burst into laughter then, shrieking with glee when Ben tries and fails to reach for her phone in an attempt to delete the incriminating image.

“This never happens to us at Maz’s,” he mutters darkly as she continues to go through her camera roll, snickering under her breath at every other photo of them.

“That’s because Maz knows to cut us off when I start singing and you start dancing,” Rey points out as she comes to the last photo – the first of the evening, chronologically.

It’s the tamest of the bunch, a clear and bright selfie of them at Maz’s where they’d started the evening as usual. The focus of the picture is on their food, but both of them are still in frame, with a smiling Rey leaning back into Ben’s chest and a camera-shy Ben half turned away, but not enough to hide the quirk of his lips.

The photo is one of dozens, if not hundreds, of similar moments captured in Rey’s phone, with nothing at all to hint at the chaos that would follow later in the evening… and the mystery they’d be left with the next morning.

Rey swipes through the pictures once more, but nothing’s changed. Their trail of evidence still ends up with a grainy photo of a visibly drunk Ben, time-stamped a quarter past midnight.

“It was a long shot to begin with,” she tells Ben with a sigh as her screen goes dark. “I mean, it’s not like we would have… stopped in the middle to take a selfie, or something.”

In the middle of _sex_.

With _Ben_.

She’s either severely overheated from her body’s attempt to flush out all of last night’s toxins, or blushing with the intensity and heat of a thousand suns.

Thankfully, Ben seems completely oblivious. “Okay, so no pictures,” he says as he runs a hand through his tangle-free hair. “But what about messages? You drunk text all the time, you can’t help yourself. There’s got to be something.”

“Hey!” Rey reaches out blindly to swat at some unknown part of his upper body, taking offence at the accusation. “Not _all_ the time.”

Ben clears his throat in a decidedly pointed manner she does not care for.

“Just like, some of the time,” she huffs. “Okay, maybe most of the time. But!” Rey turns around to pin him with an accusing look. “Drunk texting Rose isn’t nearly as bad as you drunk tweeting for everyone to see!”

And then, like something out of a corny teen detective movie, it hits them both at the exact same moment–

_“Twitter.”_

.

> _**Saturday, 2AM:** _

_**** _

.

> _**Saturday, 10AM:** _

Their tweets – well, mostly Rey’s; Ben appears to have gone radio-silent after a handful of snide comments about Finalizer’s tacky aesthetic – fill in some of the blanks, but not the biggest one.

“So we drank a lot – _a whole lot_ ,” Rey surmises with a wince, though her hangover had already told her as much, “did some impromptu karaoke out on the streets, and then… came back here super drunk and cuddled up.”

She’s not looking forward to reading her friends’ reactions to that particular tweet of hers, but at least it isn’t _too_ embarrassing. Everyone knows she and Ben suffered from a lack of touch and affection during their childhoods, and that as best friends they’re particularly touchy with each other to make up for it.

So while Rose, Finn, and Poe might tease her mercilessly about it, no one else – especially Ben – will read into it all that much.

“Still doesn’t explain how we ended up, um…”

It’s adorable, how he’s still dancing around the subject. Ben’s earlier look of discomfort over the idea has gradually eased into plain embarrassment, turning his cheeks and ears that familiar shade of red she loves teasing him about.

But the mystery at hand keeps her focus from straying, for now at least. This wouldn’t be the first time they’d gotten drunk and decided to go to sleep together, but the nudity is definitely new and puzzling.

In the time it’s taken them to comb through social media for clues, though, something else has occurred to Rey.

“I have no idea what that’s about,” she admits, words slow with reluctance, “but… I don’t think we did, Ben.”

_Please don’t ask please don’t ask please don’t–_

“How can you be sure, though? Rey, if we– if I took advantage of you like that, I would never forgive myself. You’re my best friend, I’m supposed to keep you _safe,_ not–”

The sight of Ben beating himself up proves to be incentive enough for her to toss aside her mortification and just come out with it.

Rey steels herself with a deep breath, and blurts it out. “I don’t feel anything!” she says a little too loudly in order to be heard above Ben’s escalating panic.

That shuts him right up, though the way he’s just gaping at her like a goldfish isn’t any better. Rey drops her eyes to her lap and tries not to fidget under his stare. “Um. Down there. I don’t feel anything _down there_ , and um, it’s… it’s been a while for me, so…” She cuts herself off with a defeated sigh, and finally brings herself to look Ben in the eye.

“So… yeah, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. And honestly, Ben, I never for a moment thought of it like that – of you taking advantage of me. I know you would never.”

As much as she wants him to.

But that’s not important right now. What’s important is the way the panic in Ben’s eyes slowly disappears as she gives him a small smile, and the way his tense shoulders finally relax.

“Good,” he whispers. “Good, that’s… that’s good.”

Rey hums in agreement, and mindlessly scrolls through her timeline while the both of them wait for the awkwardness of the moment to dissipate.

She’s holding back a laugh at Rose subtweeting Finn about annoying stuff he does around the house when Ben suddenly clears his throat.

“So… I take it Tinder isn’t the miracle worker everyone claims it is?”

God, _why_? Ben is like a dog with a bone when it comes to any mention of her dating life, which is mainly why she’d been so reluctant to clue him in on her continued dried spell. He seems more bothered about it than her, and had been all too happy to help her set up a Tinder profile a few months ago when she’d mentioned the possibility of dating again.

Thankfully he’d left her to it once everything was set up and hadn’t asked for updates… until now, that is.

Rey shrugs without looking up from her phone, and gives Ben her very best attempt at nonchalance. “Don’t think it works unless you swipe right on someone, so…”

“You haven’t picked anyone?”

The sheer disbelief in Ben’s voice compels her to look at him, if only to check if– Yup, he’s giving her _that_ look, the scrutinizing one he breaks out every time her lack of a love life gets brought up in conversation. She’s never quite been able to make sense of it, but knowing Ben he’s probably trying to get a read on her to figure out how best to help her.

It’s a doomed effort, but sweet. “I just… No one feels right,” she tells him honestly, and prays he doesn’t ask why.

To her surprise, Ben simply nods and fixes his gaze on some point beyond her shoulder, staring off into the distance. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he murmurs, almost as if to himself.

Of course he would; Ben’s the only person in their circle who’s been single for just as long as she has, after all.

Sometimes Poe likes to wonder out loud if maybe that means something. Rey just rolls her eyes and walks away from him whenever he decides to be an ass like that. Because as much as Poe likes to drop hints, as much as Rose insists that the way Ben looks at her isn’t the way a best friend looks at you… There’s the Halloween party, and his interest when it comes to her love life, and the way he’d reacted this morning.

Rey had spent the first half of her life determinedly ignoring dozens of warning signs in her desperation to believe she could be loved. She can’t put herself through that again, not with Ben.

Because Ben… Ben does love her, she knows, in his own way, and that should be enough, that _has_ to be enough.

For the thousandth time, Rey resolves to let that be the final word on this matter, and goes back to scrolling through her timeline while Ben continues to stew in silence, presumably nursing a splitting headache. She’s just about to offer to go get him some Advil when she comes upon a tweet of his that hadn’t popped up during their careful search of their respective profiles.

It’s from his private account, which explains why they hadn’t seen it earlier, but nothing – _nothing_ – can explain the actual tweet itself.

“Um, Ben?”

.

> _**Saturday, 3AM:** _

_**** _

.

> _**Saturday, 11AM:** _

Her voice doesn’t sound like her own as it reaches her ears. Her mouth doesn’t feel like her own as it forms those words. The only thing Rey can feel, as the rest of her body goes numb from shock, is the painful thud of her heart racing in her chest.

_Love of my life._

**_Love_ ** _of my life._

_Love of **my** life._

Next to her, Ben sucks in a sharp breath as his eyes land on the tweet, and then promptly stops breathing. Out of the corner of her eye, Rey can just about make out the tension in his shoulders, the horror on his face.

The fact that he hasn’t laughed it off, hasn’t even attempted to dismiss his words as nothing more than the nonsensical ramblings of a drunk man, stirs up feelings Rey isn’t quite ready to examine just yet.

To buy them both some time, she lets him process his words in silence while she glances at his other tweets. At some point last night he must have switched from his public account to the private one, where he’d posted occasional updates about doing shots, dancing with her, and finally, an hour and a half before _that_ tweet, he’d grumbled about someone spilling a tray of cocktails on them right as they were about to leave the club.

The tweet is enough to jog Rey’s memory, and the fog in her mind finally lifts to reveal images of them stumbling back to his place, taking separate showers to wash off the night, and then falling asleep before they could finish getting dressed.

Well, that’s one mystery solved.

As for the other one…

Ben remains utterly still and silent beside her, even after her screen goes dark. If it’s up to him, Rey suspects they might just stay like this all day.

The next move, it seems, will have to be hers. Rallying every stray bit of hope she’s ever allowed herself to feel over the past few years and ignoring the ball of anxiety and dread and fear in her stomach that threatens to send her back to the bathroom, Rey turns to face him.

In a voice so faint she’s frankly surprised he can hear her at all, she asks, “Did you mean it?”

Time seems to come to a standstill.

Eternity stretches between one breath and the next.

And then, almost in slow-motion, she watches Ben nod.

Just once, just a barely-there dip of his head, but it’s enough to change _everything_.

She can barely see him now, through the tears swimming in her eyes. Her heart is beating so fast it _hurts_ , but in the best way, in a way that makes her smile even as she draws a shaky breath and chokes on a sob. “How long?”

Ben closes his eyes and begins to turn away from her. Rey lets her tears spill over and takes a good, proper look at him, notices for the first time just how tense and nervous and _scared_ he is. And god, so is she, but they’ve wasted long enough being afraid, haven’t they?

So she reaches out and wraps her fingers around his wrist. “Ben, _how long_?”

Rey is impatient, so goddamn impatient after all this wasted time, but she doesn’t push him while he collects himself, doesn’t let go when the silence between them grows heavy.

Finally, with his eyes still closed, Ben releases the tension in his shoulders with a sigh and whispers, “Since the day I met you.”

Five years.

It’s been _five years_ of telling herself not to get her hopes up, of losing sleep over daydreams of a future she told herself she could never have, of reliving that first Halloween together and wondering why, why, _why_ –

But she doesn’t tell Ben any of this. There’ll be time, later, for questions and concerns and fears. For now, though, now while he still can’t bring himself to look at her, now while he’s still holding himself like a wounded animal ready to escape at any moment–

For now, she slides off the bed to kneel before him, and waits for him to open his eyes to tell him, with a smile on her face even as tears continue to roll down her cheeks, “You’re the reason why.”

He knows, he has to know what she’s talking about, but maybe he needs to hear it just as much as she’d needed to see that tweet. “Why what?” Ben asks, voice equal parts wary and hopeful.

Rey wipes away the last of her tears. “Why no one ever feels right. Why no one else will _ever_ feel right for me. Ben,” she sighs and laughs and sobs, “Ben, it’s you. It’s been you since the day I accidentally attacked you with that Frisbee.”

“ _Rey_ ,” he breathes, voice hushed in awe and eyes bright with joy, and she goes all too willingly when Ben wraps his hands around her waist to pull her off the ground and into his lap, loops her arms around his neck and slides her fingers into his hair the way she’s dreamed of doing for _years_.

When Ben moves one shaking hand to slowly cradle her cheek, he looks at her and touches her and holds her like she’s the most precious thing in the entire universe. “It’s always been you,” he whispers as he presses his forehead to hers, a touch so intimate her heart _aches_. “It’s only ever been you.”

Later, they’ll laugh at how stupid and blind and oblivious they’ve been. Later, they’ll mourn all the time they’ve wasted. Later, she’ll ask him about that first Halloween ( _I thought you were drunk that night_ ), and all the times he checked in on her love life ( _I didn’t want to be blindsided, if you ever…_ ), and the look on his face this morning _(I was so worried I’d forgotten our first time_ ).

But for now… for now Ben rubs his nose against hers and she smiles so wide it hurts, until he wipes the grin off her face with a kiss that’s been five years in the making.

It makes her heart _sing_ , and it feels like coming home for the first time in her life, and it’s _perfect_ –

Until her phone starts blowing up with notifications, and then his starts buzzing too, and they both look over to find that their friends have woken up and are, to put it mildly, _freaking the fuck out_.

When her phone lights up with an incoming call, Ben laughs against her lips as she groans at the interruption.

Rey sighs and steals a quick kiss before she reluctantly pries herself out of his arms. “Just gimme a second to–”

She silences her phone, and Ben shuts his off entirely. “I think we have better things to do right now than deal with our friends, don’t you?” he asks as he pulls her back into his arms, already leaning in for another kiss.

“ _Much_ better things,” Rey agrees, and no one hears from them until the next morning.

.

> _**Sunday, 9AM:** _

_**** _

Ben stirs just as the likes and comments start pouring in.

“What’re you doing?” he rasps, reaching for her with his eyes barely open. Rey backs out of Instagram and sets her phone aside, happy to ignore the outside world for a little longer and return to Ben’s warm embrace.

She curls up next to him, the two of them fitting together like puzzle pieces. “Just thinking,” Rey murmurs, propping her head up in one hand as the other brushes stray curls out of his face. “It feels right – us waking up like this, together.”

“Feels perfect,” Ben mumbles happily as she rests her head on his chest, reaching down to brush a kiss along her temple as he swings a heavy arm around her waist.

Rey wants to tell him he doesn’t need to hold her in place, to promise him he doesn’t have to worry about this being a dream. Instead, she hooks a leg around him and presses a kiss to his chest so that her lips touch his heart when she sighs, “Love you.”

It’s beautiful, how that one word can say everything they want to tell each other, everything they need to hear.

Ben pulls her closer – not because he’s afraid of her leaving, Rey knows, but simply because he’s always wanted to, simply because he finally can. “Love you too,” he says, and together they drift off to sleep in each other’s arms, right where they belong.

**Author's Note:**

> Me, knowing full well that I'm the idiot who decided to keep them apart for five years: "UGH FINALLY"
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you liked this bit of fluff! If you notice any issues with the images/have suggestions on how I could fix things, please do reach out. And as always, please don't hesitate to leave a comment or [come say hi on Twitter](https://twitter.com/hiraeth_writes). (Note: I've gone private, so if you send a follow request please slide into my DMs and let me know you're a fellow Reylo.)


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